《The Class B》Chapter 10

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Angel held still while Mae applied mascara to her face. The Solver handled her own makeup a few minutes prior, and Arte was getting dressed behind a nearby tree. They were wearing a set of stylish, and surprisingly comfortable clothes, which were apparently stored in the Raptor for occasions such as this.

“I still find it hard to believe you need to keep formalwear on hand,” Angel said after Mae backed away.

“That’s what Solver HQ thought,” Mae said. “But after a dozen cases where agents on the ground needed to buy stuff out of pocket they started including them in the standard kit.”

“Why would mercenaries need a fancy dress?”

Mae laughed. “Technically we’re not mercenaries, we’re Solvers.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Mercenaries fight people, I solve problems.” Mae smiled. “Which sometimes includes fighting people.”

Arte popped out from behind his tree and said, “Are we ready to go?”

“Almost,” Mae said. She grabbed a few loose articles and loaded them into the drone that followed them from the Raptor, then took a handful of black garbage bags and tucked them into hidden pouches in their outfits. She patted them on the chest and said, “Try not to crinkle.”

Arte and Angel followed her as she stepped out from the tree line onto a forested trail. Their path took them down a winding route, until opening up into a quaint neighborhood. They continued through the small village, carefully avoiding the surveillance cameras scattered around.

“Is it really safe to be walking in the open like this?” Angel said.

“That’s one of the nice things about upperclass settlements like this,” Mae said. “The people value their privacy, so as long as you bypass the entrances, say by dropping in behind them, it isn’t hard to move about unseen.”

“But… how is the CSA supposed to run the Safe Citizen program here?”

Mae laughed. “Judging by those files we saw, I would guess they don’t.”

“Ah… right.” Angel looked down and sighed. She drifted behind, not straightening up until a click from Mae alerted her they were nearing their destination. She took a deep breath and shook her head, bracing for action.

They walked to the resort’s main entrance from the side. A handful of well dressed men were trickling in as they approached. Mae motioned for them to pause a short distance from the entrance, then ushered them on when the line was clear.

Arte took the lead, while Angel followed a few feet behind. She held her breath as he neared the door, and for a dreadful second she was certain it would remain locked tight and deafening alarms would blare, but the glass slid open in a smooth motion, allowing him to pass unhindered. She did the same moments later, followed immediately by Mae.

Angel spared a glance for her companions, before rushing in as dignified a manner as she could to the main auditorium. Her responsibility was to search along the right hand wall, then circle back through a center aisle. Arte would take a mirrored path on the left, while Mae covered the rearmost rows. The Solver meant to finish before them, after which she would leave the auditorium to check a few other places and prepare their escape.

Angel slipped though a set of double doors and found herself in a massive hall packed to the brim with finely dressed elites. In another time she might have been intimated, but at the moment she was too concerned with scrutinizing the horde of ushers and waitresses waiting along the wall.

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As she neared the corner, a young man in a red suit stepped out and asked, “May I help you to your seat, Miss?”

Angel clenched her jaw to avoid a yelp, and instead glared at the boy. He muttered an apology and backed away, while Angel continued on. She exhaled and shook her head, then increased the distance between herself and the line of staff. The interruption threw off her count, so she started again at one minute. They weren’t allowed to bring electronics into the building, so it was up to each of them to keep track of the remaining time.

Angel walked down the right wall until she reached the front row and turned left. So far she hadn’t noticed a single person who looked familiar or out of place. She started up the center aisle on the fourth minute, and was well into the fifth by the time she returned to the rear. There was no sign of the police, though that was bound to change soon enough.

In spite of the cool air, sweat was building up on her chest and neck. She took a few deep breaths while she scanned the room. Mae would already have left, though in theory Arte was still somewhere nearby. She couldn’t catch sight of him in two whole sweeps, and for a moment wondered if he bailed, but shook it off. The Class B was at least as dedicated to stopping this attack as she was.

There was time for at least one more pass, which she began by returning to the center of the rear wall. This time she decided to focus on the guests rather than the staff. As she walked back along her path, she noticed a chipper old man in a colorful suit. He was chatting loudly with another man, and seemed to be talking about the OLS.

She continued moving as she watched, straining her ears to listen in. They assumed Martel’s agent would be one of the skittish Night Owls, but it was possible—

Her thought was interrupted when she crashed into a man walking towards the door. She had only enough presence of mind to realize they were tumbling to the floor before the man deftly untangled their legs and pulled away. He caught her by the elbow and expertly stilled her wobble.

“Ah! Excuse me!” Angel said, looking up into his face. Her eyes flashed with terror as she bit down a yell.

Seig smiled at her. “Pardon me, Miss.” He chuckled. “First time to one of these little shindigs?”

“Y-yes, actually.” Angel blushed and looked away, horrified the Admin might suddenly recognize her.

“They’re quite the event,” he said. “But truth be told, the opening ceremonies are such a bore.” He leaned in and whispered, “If you want the advice of an old veteran, I suggest you skip the pomp and head straight to a presentation you’re interested in. There’s one on foreign affairs right after this, and I hear the speaker is quite charming. If you head there now you can get a good seat.”

“Oh… thanks,” Angel said.

“Least I could do,” Seig said. He patted her arm. “You can find it in the other building. Now you have a lovely day.” He walked away, leaving Angel to her thoughts.

It took a few seconds for her heart to settle, all the while she wrestled with the notion the Admin tried to save her life. Angel wasn’t sure what to do with the information. It did at least suggest he didn’t recognize her, though she could only guess as to why. She supposed it didn’t matter in the end, if they succeeded here, he’d never make that mistake again, and if they didn’t….

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She shook her head. There wasn’t time to dally. She grit her teeth and resumed her patrol, glaring down everyone she passed so hard several staff members visibly recoiled.

Arte, meanwhile, was strolling through an extra wide row meant to delineate the premium seats in front from the more pedestrian chairs to the rear. Many of the guests returned his own studious eyes, curious about the odd make of his suit and boyish features. Most of the young men in the resort were there to work as ushers or attendants. For one to meander so casually through their ranks in exotic attire suggested he was a man of some renown, but no one could place him.

He reached the end of the row and sighed, then looked up and over the crowd to the back wall. There was a group of men in blue uniforms scattered about, talking with the ushers. Each carried a few sheets of paper, which they would fan out for a few seconds in front of a staff member before moving on. Arte frowned at them, then turned to the stage.

A man in a fine suit had ascended, and was casually approaching the podium in the center. Arte deepened his frown, then scanned the crowd until his eyes rested on Angel. She was forcing her way through the swarm of guest currently rushing to their seats. Arte studied her a few seconds, then glanced back at the stage. Finally, he sighed and shrugged, then started towards the left hand wall. His pace was steady, but not especially quick.

When he cleared the row, he turned right and strode down the aisle towards the front. He reached the short stairs that lead to the stage, where a young man approached him. The aide was about to deflect the stranger, but froze at his grim expression and allowed him to pass without question.

Arte reached the podium a few steps before the host and waved the old man down. Before he could so much as mutter an objection, Arte grabbed the microphone and tapped it a few times.

“Is anyone down there a Night Owl?” Arte said. “Because if so, the device you were given is not a transmitter, it is a bomb. Specifically, one armed with poison gas.”

Shock rippled through the audience as hundreds of faces stared at the bizarre interruption. Many were struck with bemused awe, as though expecting a punch line at any moment. The air became increasingly anxious as the intruder continued scanning the room in silence. The Master of Ceremonies sputtered to the side, fumbling with his hands.

Arte leaned over the podium and pointed at a young man dressed as an usher off to the side, not far from where Angel stood frozen in surprise. “I believe that’s him right there.”

The man in question was only slightly less stunned than the crowd, maintaining barely enough presence of mind to slowly pull a thin tablet from his coat and into a ready position. Angel broke through her daze ahead of the masses, and clambered her way through them towards him.

Her sudden movement awoke the police from their stupor, and they immediately stormed their way towards the stage. Arte stood by as they approached, while Angel broke through the crowd and reached the terrified Night Owl. She swiped the device from his hand and stuffed it into a garbage bag she pulled from her dress. She tied it up, then stuffed the whole sack into another bag for good measure.

Angel glanced at the stunned man and said, “You should make yourself scarce,” then took off towards a nearby door. It released her into a hallway running beside the auditorium, and would eventually lead her along a mostly straight path to the roof.

Arte, meanwhile, waited until it was certain Angel secured the device and slipped from the room before making a move of his own. The police had him boxed in on both sides, approaching in a tight knit line of officers. Before they could close the distance, their attention was drawn to a racket above them.

Mae threw open a heavy grate, then kicked down a metal ladder. “This way kid!” She yelled before running along the catwalk and out of sight. Arte bolted towards the escape, bounding up the rungs a split second before the police arrived, barely pulling his leg clear from their grasping arms. He rushed the rest of the way up and onto the deck, shutting the grate behind him and locking it in place.

The police shouted after him as he followed Mae’s path through the scaffolding above the stage. The elevated walkway lead through a thin wooden door into a small room with large windows overlooking the auditorium. Arte threw himself inside, where a technician muttered impotent protests at the sight of yet another intruder.

“Sorry for the bother,” Arte said. He left out another door, this one of a regular size that lead into a second story hallway. From there he ran deeper into the resort, towards the rear stairwell which would take him to the roof. There was a handful of bewildered bystanders along the way, who whispered disapproval and glared indignation has he passed.

Arte continued at a full clip, slowing only a moment to look back when a cluster of policemen barged into the corridor from the front staircase. They shuffled about until they noticed Arte running away, then scrambled after him. Meanwhile, he reached the rearmost door, which had been kicked open a short while ago.

Inside was a set of stairs leading up, with Angel and Mae already near the top. Mae leaned over the railing and yelled down, “You’re almost there kid! Someone set this damn thing off while Angel was climbing the stairs and I don’t trust a pair of garbage bags to keep it contained. I’ll go dispose of it somewhere safe, you kids wait for me on the roof. I shouldn’t be long.”

“You got it Mae!” Arte yelled back. The Solver disappeared from view, and soon the only sound in the stairwell was the thundering echo of his footsteps. After ascending all ten floors, he was drenched in sweat. He shed the suit jacket on the way, bundling it under one arm. At the top he pushed through a metal door and onto the hotel roof.

The highest level of the resort was divided into two floors, with the pair of rear stairwells leading to the lower terrace. On the far side of where Arte emerged from, next to the second door, was a set of metal stairs leading to the topmost surface. That was where the Raptor would land when Mae returned.

Arte ran towards it immediately, but skidded to a halt when Seig strode into the path in front of him. The Admin had rushed to the roof as soon as he realized what happened and who was responsible.

“That’s far enough, Mr. Arte,” Seig said.

“I think it would be Mr. Bodrum, actually,” Arte said. “It turns out I do have a last name after all.”

Seig stared blankly a few seconds, unable to process the strange response. Eventually, he frowned, and said, “Whoever you are, your days of meddling have come to an end. You can either come with me, or die where you stand.”

Angel poked her head over the balcony and started to say, “Arte? What’s taking so—“

She was interrupted by Seig firing over his shoulder into the concrete wall along the upper terrace, a few feet from Angel’s face. She yelped and scrambled for cover.

“If your friends know what’s best for them, and you, they’ll refrain from poking any more limbs into range.”

Arte studied the Admin a moment, then said, “Why are you working so hard?”

Seig smiled. “Because your unruly band have made yourselves a tedious chore, which thankfully comes to an end today.”

“No, I meant, in general, for Martel. Is this stupid conspiracy worth all the bother?”

“The Senator is a man with vision. He sees the threat of China’s inevitable resurgence, and unlike the rest of the intemperate fools in Washington, has the strength to do what’s necessary.”

“Right, so, the China thing,” Arte said. “When you were arguing with Mae you said they turned everyone into part of their machine, right?”

“They are inhuman devils, who sacrificed humanity for power,” Seig said.

“Yeah, that sounds bad,” Arte said. “So why do it here?”

Seig glared at him. “What are you talking about?” A low hum reverberated from the upper terrace, the sound of the Raptor swooping into position. Seig spared a glance for the interruption, then fixed his gaze back on the Class B.

Arte shrugged. “As far as I can tell you federals already did the same thing. I mean, even your rebellions are part of the plan. What’s left to take?”

“Everything we’ve done is for the good of society,” Seig said.

“And if all of it wasn’t enough to surpass China, why would you expect more of the same to tip the balance?”

Seig scowled at him, his mouth chewing on an empty thought.

“You don’t have an answer?” Arte said. When Seig didn’t reply, he continued, “Then are you willing to kill an innocent man for a plan you have no reason to think will work?”

The two shared a long moment of silence, each staring back at the other with steady eyes. Finally, Arte stepped forward, walking towards the Admin. Seig kept his aim fixed on Arte’s chest, but didn’t otherwise respond. The Class B continued on, passing the Admin and reaching the stairs, which he marched up and out of sight.

Mae and Angel were waiting for him, and the second he cleared the wall the Solver pulled him forward and ushered everyone into the Raptor. She hopped in behind them and closed the door, bracing herself against the wall while the craft soared into the sky. As soon as the acceleration leveled off, she went to a nearby panel and returned a pistol to the rack behind it.

When she finished she approached Arte, who’d remained standing in the middle of the room in spite of the shaky ascent. “Good work kid,” she said. “Had me worried I’d need to throw away—“

Arte stepped into her before she could finish, grasping her tight around the chest and burying his head into her shoulder in spite of their difference in height. After a moment of surprise, Mae wrapped an arm around and tucked him into her body.

“Guess you aren’t as cold as you look,” Mae said.

“Sorry,” Arte mumbled.

“Nah, it’s alright. Nothing wrong with feeling things.” She patted his back. “And honestly, I’m glad you started showing your wear. I was worried maybe you didn’t care if you lived or died.” She guided him to a bench and sat him down. “This thing doesn’t do anything like hot chocolate, but let me at least get you something sweet.”

Arte slid as near to the wall as he could manage, then turned away from the room. He looked further out as Angel sat across from him.

“That was really brave of you, I think,” she said. “Standing up to Seig like that. There’s not a lot of people who could talk him down.” She shook her head. “In fact, most people would’ve collapsed into a heap.”

“Thanks,” Arte said. “Though honestly, I was only thinking that if I had to die, I’d like to know the reason. Turns out there wasn’t one.”

“I’m glad he didn’t shoot,” Angel said.

“Me too.”

Mae returned with a silver can. “For your nerves,” she said as she handed it over. He took a swig while she sat next to him. “Now we need to decide what to do next.”

“You’re not finished?” Angel said. “I mean, I know Martel is still a problem, but wasn’t stopping the attack enough to keep Arte safe?”

“It might have been,” Mae said. “Perhaps with a little negotiation from his association to convince Martel that Arte was just some guy who stumbled into his plot, but that was before we got our hands on the data. I’m confident that was a measured risk on their part, which would have been tidied up in the attack on the convention.”

“Wouldn’t it have been safer not to let it out in the first place?”

Mae hummed. “I’ve been thinking about that, actually, and I suspect we were never intended to retrieve it. Gale likely had his own plan, and would have made sure no one had an opportunity to copy the drive. Since we did get it, however, Martel can’t be sure we won’t use it against him.”

“But you gave it to Gale, didn’t you?” Angel said.

“Yeah, though obviously I duplicated the contents first,” Mae said with a mischievous smile. “There was a ton of valuable intelligence, after all.”

“Why did they need anyone to steal the data in the first place? Doesn’t Gale work for the CSA?”

“Probably not any more,” Mae said. “But more specifically, it’s not like Martel is running the whole country. I’m sure there are other federals who would—“

Mae was interrupted by a flash of red light. It pulsed on and off in time with a sharp tone and a gentle buzz in the floor. Several cushioned seats folded out from the back wall.

“What’s going on!” Angel said.

Rather than answer, Mae pulled both Arte and Angel from the bench—which folded up immediately—and threw them into the rear chairs. She strapped them in place, then planted herself in between them.

“Is something wrong with the Raptor?” Angel said.

“It’s having us prepare for evasive maneuvers,” Mae said. “So most likely we’re under attack.”

“Under attack! By who?”

The alarm silenced, and Cybel’s soft voice sounded on the intercom. “Federals. Two Fighters.”

“Martel must have scrambled them,” Mae said, then she huffed. “That bastard probably guessed we’d show up to the conference and had them standing by.”

“Are we going to be alright?” Angel said.

“Should be,” Mae said. “But for now you need to hold tight, and try to relax.”

A low rumble penetrated the normally quiet interior of the Raptor as the three were pressed into their seats. After a few seconds of that, the craft lurched down, then began a series of sharp turns that pushed its passengers to their limits. Arte was the first to pass out, slumping over during a particularly sharp climb.

Angel hung on a while longer, lasting through the whole gamut of twists and turns before fading out to the rhythmic drum of flares and chaff being deployed.

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